A place to put my epiphanies
[e·piph·a·ny - n. a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.]

Monday, 17 May 2010

Say "No!" to pricky socks

The following came out of a conversation I had with The Baron when I first put my AR Mini-Gaiters online. I'm about to remove this from the AR Mini-Gaiters page on http://www.ar.co.za/, to simplify the section, but I didn't want to lose this funny gem.

"Say 'No!' to pricky socks," I cheer.

"I tried to say no to my prickly socks, but they gave me that look and I just had to let them carry on scampering around the laundry basket," the trail runner responds.

"It's not prickly, it's pricky," The Baron clarifies, suggesting that we start a "Say 'No!' to pricky socks" cult.

As the appointed cult leader I explain: "Definitely pricky. Prickly would refer to a cactus, pear and porcupine. But pricky... that's something entirely different. It describes that irritation that you feel in one spot, caused by a grass seed stuck in the weave of your sock (despite numerous machine washes). You find it and remove it with glee, only to later feel another prick somewhere else on your foot. 'pricky' it is. And sometimes you can't find it at all and it just goes on pricking."

The Baron agrees. "'No, No, No' I say to pricky socks!" he roars, sounding like a Dr Seuss character.

I have - over the years - perfected the way of saying "No!" to pricky socks; I wear self-designed and self-made mini-gaiters. They cover the top of my shoe and laces, preventing sticks, stones, grit, sand and pesky grass seeds from getting anywhere near the inside of my trail shoes and my socks. As a result, NO MORE PRICKY SOCKS. Best of all, my foot comfort is improved, chance of blisters is minimised and my socks last longer. Gone of those days of throwing pricky-infested socks in the bin.